


carry it to your grave

by Kangoo



Series: but first they must catch you [6]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: (it doesn't stick), Angst, Canon-Typical Death, Dark, Gen, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Suicide, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 05:03:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20303905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/pseuds/Kangoo
Summary: thyme tests out sable's truth serum on occam





	carry it to your grave

**Author's Note:**

> thyme belongs to [BaronetCoins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaronetCoins/pseuds/BaronetCoins), who's nice enough to let me turn her sunshine character into my awful character's archnemesis (leading to this kind of Bad Stuff Happening. sorry. ilu.)
> 
> i keep hurting occam but they make it so easy

Thyme has only ever seen Occam die twice. It makes sense: they do everything in their power to avoid it and they rarely run missions together, if ever. You only ever see them die if you kill them yourself.

The first time, she challenged them to a Crucible match. One-on-one, because they bragged about their aim and she was itching to knock them down a peg or two. It took her an hour to find them in the arena — they kept moving from hideout to hideout, from a sniper perch to another. But eventually she had them pinned down, nowhere left to run to without getting out of cover and right in her sights.

By then she had gone well past irritation and right into anger. It’s that Titan instinct of wanting to face your opponent in an honorable fight — to test your skills rather than simply seek to destroy the other. She was disappointed to find it lacking in Occam, and this only fueled her resentment toward them. That’s why she didn’t hesitate, didn’t try to get closer to look them in the eyes while she took the shot that showed _she_ was the best at this.

(They bring out the worst in her. They bring out the worst in most people.)

She saw Occam afterward, as they were leaving the arena. They looked— Traveler, they looked bad. Bad enough she felt a pang of pity for them, despite the frustration still simmering in her veins from their game of hide-and-seek. They were paler than usual, eyes bloodshot and twitching, face clammy with cold sweat. There was still blood on their clothes, a constellation of bullet holes in their chest armor where she had hit them.

Few Guardians look so much like death warmed over after a resurrection. As they walked past her, giving her a wide berth and a nervous look, she almost felt sorry for them.

The second time, she didn’t _mean _to. But Sable had just come up with what she thought might be a truth serum, and she needed to test its efficiency. Unfortunately her usual test subjects were Thyme and Razel, and since she had used herself as a test subject the serum was almost assured to only work on humans. So Thyme said she’d ask the Drifter if he wanted in, though she wasn’t hoping for much. He’s notably cagey about anything personal so a truth serum is probably too much for him, especially since testing it thoroughly would require asking questions he usually wouldn’t want to answer.

Still, her girlfriend asked nicely, so down the Tower she went. But when she steps in his room, he isn’t there. Occam, on the other hand, _is_.

She almost didn’t notice them when she came in. They’re sitting with their back to her, dozing in the darkness, their cheek pressed against the rifle propped up against their shoulder. They’ve been less jumpy lately, less on edge, and it’s hard not to notice the change when she manages to sneak up to them without disturbing their sleep. She waits for them to rouse, but their chest continues to rise and fall evenly, their eyes barely moving under their eyelids.

An idea crosses her mind. A bad idea, probably. Definitely not a nice one. She pushes her hand in her pocket and the tip of her fingers brush against the metal case stashed in it. Inside is a syringe, filled with a dose of the serum, just in case the Drifter agreed on the spot but wasn’t comfortable with having Sable present as well. The scientist had given Thyme a rigorous list of protocols to follow, just in case.

Slowly, she takes the syringe out of the case. Occam still doesn’t wake up.

They definitely do when she plunges the needle in their neck, though.

She manages to inject about half of the dose before they jump up and away from her, ripping the syringe out. They watch her wide-eyed, still groggy from sleep, looking both accusing and grimly satisfied. Like they were just waiting for her to do something like that.

“What the _fuck_ did you do,” they ask, voice monotone with barely restrained— anger? Fear? it’s hard to tell.

“It won’t kill you,” is all she replies, because it’s important to specify that with Occam. “How are you feeling?”

They rub their neck and scowl. They don’t move, even though every tense line of their body shows they long to. She’s between them and the only way out: they’re going to be here as long as she wants them to be. Which isn’t much, ideally.

Finally, when it’s obvious she’s not moving, they grit out, “Like you just stabbed me in the throat. How do you _think_ I’m feeling?”

She waits a moment, because Sable warned her it would take some time to take effect, and then she asks again. “How are you feeling?”

They look at her like she’s a moron, but what comes out of their mouth isn’t a snide comment. Instead they say, “Tired. Cold. I miss Drifter and I want to punch you in the face.”

The words make them freeze like they didn’t expect them, like they’re alien to them. Success.

“What did you _do_?” They ask again, this time with mounting horror. That’s… not ideal. She didn’t mean to scare them that much, though it’s hard not to when they’re so easily spooked.

“Truth serum prototype,” she says with a shrug. Honesty is the least she can do for them at the moment, and they deserve that much. “Why aren’t you punching me then?”

They grit their teeth as if to trap the words between them. Their mouth works on its own, shaping the sound of, “You’re stronger. Don’t want you to retaliate.”

Each word sounds like it’s been dragged out of them. They’re fighting this every step of the way and, she notices suddenly, slowly moving away as well, circling her to get to the door. She has time for one last question, two if she’s lucky. She needs to move fast — ask something they’d never answer, make sure it’s working like Sable intended.

“What happened to your fireteam?”

She now she’ll regret the question the moment she voices it out. Whatever happened to their fireteam changed Occam, made them the way they are — a cagey, self-centered, ruthless mess of paranoia and trauma. They never talk about it. She shouldn’t have asked.

By the look in their eyes, she’ll live to regret asking.

Their mouth opens, almost in slow motion, shaping a first word. Occam doesn’t give themself the time to answer. Their hand moves to their thigh, almost too quick for eyes to track, take out the sidearm they always keep there. They flick off the safety with jerky movement—

And press the barrel of the gun under their jaw.

Thyme only has a second to see the look of sheer unadulterated _hatred_ in their dark eyes before they squeeze the trigger. Their body makes a dull sound as it drops, hard to hear with the echo of the shot still ringing in her ears.

She doesn’t stick long enough to watch their Ghost bring them back. They don’t want her there anymore than she does. But even as she runs out of the room she wonders what kind of secret would be so terrible to speak of they would rather die than reveal it to her. She doesn’t think it’s one she would like to hear.

(Whatever hope of them burying the hatchet remained before that is… well, buried after this incident. They don’t speak of it. They don’t speak, period, for a very long time, and Thyme can feel their eyes burn a hole in the back of her head for every single minute of it.)

**Author's Note:**

> better dead temporarily than jettisoned out of the airlock after thyme tell the vanguard what happened to their fireteam, believe me


End file.
